Love moderately; long love doth so; too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, that he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell

O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh

I was adored once too.

My story starts at sea... a perilous voyage to an unknown land... a shipwreck... The wild waters roar and heave... The brave vessel is dashed all to pieces, and all the helpless souls within her drowned... all save one... a lady... whose soul is greater than the ocean... and her spirit stronger than the sea's embrace... Not for her a watery end, but a new life beginning on a stranger shore. It will be a love story... for she will be my heroine for all time. And her name will be... Viola.

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

I have a kind soul that would give you thanks. And knows not how to do it but with tears.